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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355276">READ MORE WLW FICS COWARDS</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Aurinko/pseuds/Captain_Aurinko'>Captain_Aurinko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant until canon proves me wrong, Dark Matters, F/F, First Meetings, Foreshadowing Canon, I got way more philosophical than I intended but they're valid questions, If you have FeelingsTM about Dark Matters than this fic might be for you, Look I won't lie I started writing a fun first meeting and then it got intense, Vespa POV, YES I'm writing this for WLW week and YES you should check it out and see what everyone is writing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:15:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Aurinko/pseuds/Captain_Aurinko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ARE YOU READY TO RRRRRUMBLE. WE ARE KICKING OFF PENUMBRA WLW WEEK WITH A WIDE VARIETY OF CONTENT ABOUT ALL THE VARIOUS PENUMBRA WLW AND THEIR RELATIONSHIPS. CANON? NOT CANON? CRACK SHIP? AUS? CANON COMPLIANT? WE'VE GOT IT ALL AND WE'RE HERE TO SPREAD THE GOSPEL. </p><p>SO AS YOU SCROLL THE TPP TAG THIS WEEK, WHY DON'T YOU TRY SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF JUPETER OR RAD BOUQUET AND GIVE SOME NICE LIKES, REBLOGS, KUDOS, AND COMMENTS TO OUR MANY TALENTED ARTISTS AND WRITERS.</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>Vespa Ilkay, a deadly assassin in service of the Outer Planetary Governments, is being sent to the Solar prison colony of Hygeia, where she faces unknown and possible deadly punishment. The only thing on her mind is escape, or at least it would be, if not for the Warden's headstrong, beautiful daughter. </p><p>What does Vespa actually want? And once she has it, what lengths will she go to to protect it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Buddy Aurinko/Vespa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>READ MORE WLW FIC COWARDS</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Tumultuous Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tucked between two hulking prisoners twice her size, Vespa Ilkay felt small. Normally, her small stature and scrawny frame worked in her favor. Both as a medic, and then later as an assassin, it had paid to stay out of the way and avoid drawing attention. Sitting in a prison transport on her way to the Hygeia Prison Colony, she was well aware of how much she stood out from the other prisoners of war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one thing, she was the youngest person there by far. As the war had dragged on over the centuries, it had gotten harder and harder to find people above the age of 20 who were fit to hold a blaster. Add that to the fact that there was a nigh-endless supply of war orphans who taxed the resources of planets that were already in the depths of poverty, and it wasn’t hard to see why the age of the draft had been lowered to 10. Vespa wasn’t a war orphan, and she hadn’t been drafted. She’d left her father on Ranga when she was 12. The promise of three meals a day, the name of her choosing on her dog tags, and a daily dose of estrogen was more than she knew she’d ever get at home. She was 19 now, and not much taller than she’d been back then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by the fact that everyone else was older than thirty and lacked visible scars, Vespa was also willing to bet that she was the only one that had seen active combat. Secretly, she hoped that one of them might be important enough to the Outer governments to warrant a rescue mission. She knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle slowed to a stop, and the other prisoners started to become more alert. Vespa didn’t need to. She’d been paying attention to every little detail and sound since they’d taken off from the last stop on Jupiter six hours ago, and even from where she was being held on Eris, fifteen hours before that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing was, Vespa liked to be prepared. She would gather that information however she could, like any adaptable assassin.  She knew which of the guards she would go for first, if she got a knife, and which of the other prisoners she would use as a human shield to buy herself enough time to get a knife in the other guard. She knew how fast they had been travelling and for how long, and she had been listening attentively for any shifts in the thrusters, so she knew where to turn the ship after she commandeered it, and how much. She was prepared to escape, should she get that opportunity, because it was the only thing she could prepare for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, no one knew what happened in the Hygeia Prison Colony. The whispers she’d heard from the trenches, war rooms, and operating tables told her only two things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Firstly, that Hygeia was the most prestigious prison within the Solar planets, and probably the entire galaxy. It held only the most dangerous prisoners and the most morally debased monsters: The people who had cut bloody swaths through Solar forces in some way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secondly, no one ever escaped from Hygeia. No one. Some people said that the prison was a lie, and that everyone who entered was killed as they stepped through the doors. Others said that they tortured their prisoners endlessly, as revenge for all of the Solar people who had died at Outer planet hands. There were whispers of prisoners being used as food for Solar soldiers, or fodder for testing Solar weapon design, or victims of new brainwashing technology that turned you into a soldier against your own people. But, Vespa reminded herself, they were just rumors. There was no proof that any of it was as bad as people said. Then again, there was no proof of anything at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the door opened, she prepared herself to see the worst. A firing squad aimed at all of them. Mutilated carcasses filling the room. A work camp filled with emaciated shadows being worked to the bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, the door lowered, revealing a hanger that was empty apart from a few shipping containers of rations and two lone figures.  No other shuttles, so if she wanted to get out of here, her only ride was the transport she’d come in on. The first figure was a dark-skinned older man in pristine military dress. He favored his right leg, probably to take weight off of an old injury on his left. A kick to the back of the knee would take him down swiftly, and it was doubtful if he would be able to recover until she’d disarmed him and used him as a hostage to take the shuttle. She stepped out obediently with the other prisoners and got into a line, considering her next move. The older man was clearly the one in charge, based on the number of medals, badges, and stars on his lapel. None of the other guards would risk shooting a commanding officer, except...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa was suddenly sharply aware of the second figure, a woman watching her with all the keenness of a lioness observing her next hunt. Like the man she was dark-skinned, but that was where the resemblance stopped. She was around Vespa’s age, tall and curvy, with plumes of wild red hair that framed her face like clouds of blood-soaked mist. She looked larger than life, like a starlet from one of the streams that Vespa saw once on shore leave. And… she wasn’t in a uniform. A civilian? But why would there be a civilian in a place like this? She shook herself. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t escape now, she might not get that chance ever again. It was either act now or die unmourned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quick as a whip, she darted forwards, sent a kick to the back of the old man’s knee, reached for his gun and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And found herself looking up at the ceiling, sprawled across the floor. She rolled sideways just in time to avoid a knee to the ribs and leapt to her feet, backing up to get her bearings. The red haired woman- because it was the red haired woman who must have attacked her- clearly didn’t want to give her that time. She moved into Vespa’s space, brawling like a creature possessed. Vespa got a few hits in, but it was clear that she was fighting on the defensive, especially when her hands were cuffed together. She blocked the woman’s hits, backing up as the woman kept trying to get in closer, until her back hit a wall and there was nowhere left for her to dodge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made one last ditch effort to go for the sheathed plasma cutter peeking out from a slit in the woman’s dress, but the woman pinned her wrists against the wall, pressing her body against Vespa’s to keep her from squirming away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman was grinning wildly, nose bleeding from a punch that Vespa barely remembered throwing. Vespa’s heart was pounding so hard in her ears that she could barely hear when the woman spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello there, darling. My name is Buddy Aurinko, and I think we’re going to get along famously.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Preventative Measures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vespa watched over Buddy Aurinko’s shoulder as one of the shuttle guards jogged over and the other helped the old man to his feet. Her face stung and she was pretty sure she was bleeding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The old man waved both guards away from Buddy and Vespa and ran a hand through his hair. From a distance, it had looked like a light shade of pink, but up close she realized that it was an even mixture of Buddy’s red mixed with an aging white. No sooner had she thought that then the man said lightly, “Daughter dear, as pleased as I am that you’ve made a new friend, you can let her go now. There’s no need to use violence when our words will suffice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without breaking her hold or gaze on Vespa, Buddy replied. “Father dear, if Vespa Ilkay had gotten to that shuttle, which she would have without my interference, then there would be no chance to use your words in the first place. I’m sure the Solar government would have quite a few words for you about letting an assassin of her caliber loose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa’s terror rose around her like an ocean wave, salty and choking. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t get away and she couldn’t fight back. As an assassin and as a medic, she had been in constant motion. Don’t draw attention. Don’t get caught. Work fast. Work quiet. Now there were a dozen pairs of eyes on her, and any chance she’d had of escape was gone. They couldn’t risk letting an assassin of her caliber loose, Buddy had said so herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blaster bolt through the temple that would give a quick, undignified  end to a messy, undignified life, lived by a short, undignified girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, the pressure against her released, and Buddy Aurinko stepped back. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The old man was the one watching her now, though not unkindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you?” She didn’t answer, but he nodded like she had. “Welcome to Hygeia. There’s not much to be said for the scenery around here, but we do well enough. Officially, I’m Warden Pallas Aurinko, but you can call me Pal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through her fear, a sound that might have been a laugh escaped her. “Seriously?” She said, voice a little rusty with disuse. “Buddy and Pal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can we say?” Buddy spoke from behind him. “We’re very friendly people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that elbow to the ribs felt real friendly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy’s eyes flashed. “Oh, and is a kick to an old injury a new way of saying hello on the Outer Planets?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa snarled and Pal held up his hands placatingly. “Regardless of how poorly first impressions have been made all around, I want to assure you that there’s no danger here. Hygeia is a prison only in name. During my time here as warden, I’ve converted Hygeia into a rehabilitation facility.-” Vespa thought wildly back to the rumors of brainwashing that had swept through the overcrowded operating rooms she had once worked in. “-that works to help prisoners prepare for life after the war and build valuable skills for gaining employment, as well as dealing with PTSD and the trauma that comes from spending- what was on your record, seven years? - at war, dealing with all manner of death, pestilence, famine, and gore. You need help and stability, and we can give them to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa’s mind raced. Pal was trying to set himself up as her friend: an ally when the torture got too much for her. When she was at her lowest, her most broken and confused, Pal would come to her, offering conditional kindness that was dependent on her surrendering everything she knew to the Solar government. She grit her teeth. Let them try. Let them</span>
  <em>
    <span> try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to break her. Sleep deprivation, poison, waterboarding; Vespa was prepared for it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pal sighed, evidently disappointed that Vespa hadn’t been convinced. He turned to his daughter. “Buddy, could you please take Vespa to her room? I think I can handle the rest of our guests. They’re only hackers and bureaucrats after all. I doubt any of them have the same proclivities for fast action as our young friend here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy nodded, and gestured for Vespa to follow her. Vespa hesitated for only a moment before going with her. She wasn’t going to escape now, and it would be stupid to waste her energy fighting here, when she could very well need it later on. Her scrawny frame didn’t have  the stamina that withstanding hours of torture required. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy led her out of the hangar and through winding metal hallways that wove deeper and deeper into the asteroid, all while prattling about the station. “Hygeia used to be a mining colony towards the beginning of the war. When it was out of metals that could be used to make guns and bombs and whatnot, people started using the tunnels for other things. It traded hands over the years; some used it as a criminal hideout, others used it as a refueling station, and a few even tried to dig deeper and see if there were more minerals to unearth. Of course, the dozens of owners over several centuries led to quite a bit of confusion when my father finally took ownership of the place. The tunnel layouts make very little sense unless you’ve spent years exploring and charting them, and all of the rooms and carved out areas vary dramatically in size. Being raised here, I can traverse these caves quite easily, but as for you, I wouldn’t recommend venturing far from your room without a guide, and- Goodness, darling. You’re bleeding; I apologize. Perhaps we should stop by the med-bay-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Vespa gritted out. She wasn’t going to show weakness this early in the game, and after the show she’d just put on out there, she didn’t want to give them any more reasons to make an example out of her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped in front of an unremarkable gray metal door on a corridor of gray metal doors. “No two rooms look the same in this place, and I’m happy to say that the ceiling in yours was a tad too low for a bunk bed, which means that you have this room all to yourself.” Buddy opened it and stepped inside, revealing a sparse but clean room with a bed, dresser, nightstand, desk, and a houseplant that she didn’t recognize. Off to the side was a small bathroom with it’s own shower and toiletries. Vespa stood in the doorway of the room, unsure whether she was supposed to come in. Buddy caught sight of her expression. “Why darling, you look like someone’s given you a landmine in a birthday cake. Whatever’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this-” Vespa’s voice faltered and she tried again. “Who’s room is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… yours. Weren’t you listening? I’ll have you know that I picked it out for you myself. If you don’t find it acceptable, I can change it of course. I’m sure that there are several guests who wouldn’t mind a roommate if you would prefer having company. Or if it’s too small, then I’m certain I can find a larger room somewhere- though I might have to move some of the other guests to do it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa had no idea what was happening. “It’s… mine?” Was this a ploy to get her to lower her guard before the real torture began? But then, there were easier ways to do that than giving her her own personal shower.  Even back on Ranga, she’d never had that. Maybe they wanted to give her a few nights in a room of comfort before tearing it away from her? Well, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She didn’t need any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… there wasn’t any harm in playing along, for now. Let them think that she’d fallen for their ploys, and then let </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> lower </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> guards. Hesitantly, she entered the room, and at Buddy’s approving look, she sat on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything… alright?” Buddy asked, and if Vespa didn’t know any better, she would have thought she heard a note of hesitance in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Vespa grumbled, and then, remembering that she was supposed to be convincing Buddy that she was going along with them, she added an awkward “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy’s relieved grin was brilliant and holy, and her lips and teeth were still stained with the blood from her injured nose. Vespa felt her breath catch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s good at this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vespa realized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They sent her to lower my guard and she’s very, very good at this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>For the first time, she let herself doubt that she'd make it out alive after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to gather yourself, darling. I’m sure today has left you with a great many questions, and a great deal of exhaustion. At the very least, do your best to get some rest and wipe the blood from your face, since you’re not amenable to seeing a medic at the moment. There are bandages under the sink and clean clothes in your dresser.  I’ll be by in the morning to check on you and bring you breakfast.” She took her leave, and Vespa didn’t hear the click of a lock behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disbelievingly, Vespa got up and tried to open the door. It slid open silently. She looked out. The hall had emptied thanks to the (probably) late hour and there was no one in either direction. Vespa closed the door. She looked in the dresser. It was filled with rough, loose, gray shirts, pants, and underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked under the bathroom sink. There were towels and a small first aid kit with enough bandages to treat a cut on her forehead that one of Buddy’s rings had given her. She could tell that she’d have some bruises from where she’d blocked Buddy’s hits (and some where she’d failed to) but there was nothing she could do about those except wait them out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cautiously turned on the shower, set the houseplant in the water, and waited to see if it would be melted by a showerhead that sprayed acid. She’d heard it was a common practise on Saturnian prison camps. When nothing happened, she cautiously put a toe under the water’s spray. Satisfied that the water wasn’t actually a trick execution, Vespa searched the room for listening devices or cameras. When her search turned up nothing, she shucked off the sweaty, grimy clothes, and took her first shower since being captured behind enemy lines nearly a week ago. She worked mechanically to scrub off as much grime in as little time as possible. In less than five minutes, she was dressed again, and busied herself by checking the bed for threats. There was a vent underneath her bed, which could have been used to fill the room with poisonous gas while she slept. She took her old clothes, wet them in the sink, and used them to cover it. The only way to kill her now was through a direct assault. There was no easy way to block the door, and that didn’t rule out the possibility of secret passages, so she figured that her best chance was a weapon. Still, there wasn’t much in the room she could work with. Everything was solid, and anything she broke would doubtlessly be noticed and punished. In the end, she settled for moving the potted plant next to her bed. If someone came in, she could smash it and kill her assailants with a shard or two. Tentatively satisfied that she wasn’t going to be killed in the night, she let herself drift into a fitful sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're onto our second day of WLW WEEK! Do yourself a favor and check out some of the amazing content being posted to our tumblr and twitter at penumbrawlwweek or see what other fics we have in this collection!</p><p>On a personal note, I cannot tell you all how relieved I am that this upcoming episode is going to be from Rita's POV because if I had written this whole fic of my ideas of Buddy's backstory only to be disproven before the fic was even posted, I would have tracked down Sophie Kaner and flung myself sobbing into their arms. It was in everyone's best interest that this was a Rita POV episode.</p><p>Anyways comment! Kudos! Bookmark!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. They Will Bury Me Alive, But I'm Not Inclined to Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A knock on the door sent Vespa flying out of bed, crouching on the floor, and reaching around blindly for a knife that wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling? I hope I didn’t wake you, but I brought breakfast.” Buddy’s warm voice brought her back to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood unsteadily, turned on the lights, and straightened her clothes. “Come in,” She said, not sure whether Buddy had been asking permission. It wasn’t as if she needed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy entered with two metal trays of breakfast. She smiled, sheepishly. “I thought we might eat together, if you don’t mind.” Vespa gave a noncommittal shrug in reply, remembering their conversation from the night before. She’d have to be careful about what she said in front of Buddy.  There was no knowing what information she was here to gather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy sat down to eat at the desk, and Vespa took the opportunity to study her. She was beautiful, Vespa would give her that. There was a poise and grace to her movements that gave her a glamorous air, even as she cut into a brick of rations and grimaced while trying to choke it down. It seemed that the food the Solar governments gave it’s people wasn’t any better than the swill served by the Outer governments. Her flaming hair was in box braids today, and Vespa had no idea how she’d managed to do them so quickly. Her hair was complimented by the wildly out of place, long, slit gold dress she wore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy finished chewing and said “It’s not going to drop, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The other shoe. The sword of Damocles. Whatever horrible scenarios you’re imagining. They’re not going to fall onto you. You’re safe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa stayed silent, poking at her food with the hopes that Buddy wouldn’t notice she hadn’t actually eaten any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For example,” Buddy reached out and took a bite from Vespa’s plate. “Your breakfast isn’t poisoned. Now do be a dear and eat something for my sake. I refuse to eat two portions of this garbage by myself, no many how many nutrients it’s supposed to have.” With one last wary look, Vespa started shoveling food into her mouth. Her stomach had been grumbling since yesterday, but she was long since used to ignoring it’s pains. She was also used to ignoring the gritty, chemical taste of the rations. What she wasn’t used to was Buddy Aurinko, and she choked when the red headed woman cocked her head and asked “Did you like killing people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa coughed, trying to clear her throat, and answered neutrally “Only when they deserved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy’s lip curled. “So you’re a crusader for justice, then. Waging your righteous war across the galaxy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa shook her head. “I want this war over as much as anyone. If I can’t do that, I can at least spare a little bit of suffering along the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you do this through assassinations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father runs the biggest prison outfit within the Solar planets. You don’t get to pass judgements on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father is a pacifist. He’s spent his entire life working to help victims of the war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He might be in the wrong place for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look around you, Buddy. This is a prison. There aren’t any innocents on either side of the bars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen any bars here. If you find some, let me know.” Her voice was light but humorless, with the barest hint of iron resolve running through it. It was a tone that spoke of friendliness but brokered no argument. Vespa was tempted to argue anyways, until she realized how stupid it would be to pick a fight with the warden’s daughter. She started shovelling food into her mouth in case Buddy decided to take it away. The silence seemed to bother Buddy more than Vespa’s answers, and she prodded again. “Do you think all of your victims deserved it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Vespa swallowed. “Most of them though. A lot of people who made money off of other people’s suffering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you think that the world is better off without them in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa nodded. “That’s the way the world works. You hurt people until you push your luck too far and someone kills you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa, do you think that you… deserve to die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably.” She scowled. “Doesn’t mean I’ll go down easy, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know darling, some might say that that’s an unhealthy mindset to have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name one person without blood on their hands in this war. Soldiers, smugglers, and civilians. We all play our part in killing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are doctors. Nurses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I worked in a medical tent at the front lines from ages 13 to 15 cause no one wanted the guilt of handing a kid as small as me a plasma-rifle. I spent two years patching up injuries that you wouldn’t believe existed, learning as I went, figuring out how to apply bandages the right way based on how many people died when I did it wrong. I’ve pulled shrapnel out of people with my bare hands, because there wasn’t any equipment for me to use. I let people die every day because there were other patients who had a higher likelihood of surviving using less resources if I tended to them instead. We all make choices, and in a war like this, each and every decision is magnified to its most extreme.” Vespa’s voice stayed strong, but she realized she was shaking. It was probably the most that she’d said in days. It was certainly more than she’d meant to say, though it wasn’t anything that the Solar government had any use for. No one had ever wanted an assassin’s opinion on the war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy didn’t seem to know what to make of Vespa’s outburst anymore than Vespa did. They stared at each other for a long moment. Vespa didn’t think she could look away even if she wanted to, frozen under Buddy’s fascinated stare. She looked at Vespa like she was a nebula of stars, but somehow, Buddy was the one to break the stare first. Her eyes flickered away, but her voice was steady as she asked. “And me? Do you think I’ve played a role in this war? Do I have blood on my hands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Vespa replied, still entranced somehow, even though the stare had been broken. “Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. She looked around the room and her eyes settled on the empty trays. She shook herself. “Well, if we’re both finished eating, I have duties I need to attend too. I’m sure that my mother needs help filing paperwork for the new guests. Speaking of the other guests, I should probably visit them too. See how they’re settling in here. We should have your work assignment sorted out by tomorrow. A place as large as this doesn’t run without a little bit of elbow grease, you know. I’ll send someone by in a few hours to show you where the cafeteria is. Then you won’t need me bothering you three times a day.” She stood sharply and grabbed their trays. “Have a wonderful afternoon, darling. This… wasn’t what I expected. I suspect I have a good bit of thinking to do before tomorrow.” With that, she slipped out the door, leaving Vespa more confused than ever before.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*The Counterfeit Arcade album by Shayfer James plays as I fully make up Vespa and Buddy's backstory out of nowhere at 3 AM*</p><p>in case your curious, that's where the title of this chapter came from, and you should super duper listen cause it does have lots of tragic doomed romance between morally questionable people vibes.</p><p>anyways tho for real: a medic AND an assassin? AND THEN AN OUTLAW??? Sophie and kevin, what were you thinking? That's so much backstory. if anyone could do it it would be Vespa, but STILL. </p><p>anyways that new episode huh!!! NGL "Juno Steel and The Ultra Mega-Bots of CyberJustice" is my new favorite title. In honor of that Sad Update on how Buddy and Vespa are doing, I bring you a probably equally sad update on how Vespa and Buddy are doing. </p><p>Comment, Kudos, and check out all the other cool penumbra wlw week stuff on our tumblr or twitter at penumbrawlwweek</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I Have No Time For Second Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>When Buddy came to get her the next morning, Vespa was waiting for her. She hadn’t slept that night. Part of it was the nightmares, but mostly she’d just been thinking, looking for angles, trying to understand. She’d spent most of yesterday morning talking to the other prisoners, which was easy, since she hadn’t been locked in her room. None of them had been locked in their rooms. They all agreed with P</span>al and Buddy’s story about it being a rehabilitation center. There were inmate-run programs for dealing with trauma and addiction. There were online classes that offered certification in a variety of fields. They had jobs in farming or maintenance to keep the prison up and running. No one died. No one went mysteriously missing. What reason would the inmates have to lie to her? Would they be incentivized to? But why go to such efforts to hide what she already suspected?</p><p>
  <span>After speaking to the other prisoners, she’d decided to search the compound. Finally, she had the chance to do what she did best: hide in the shadows and wait for her moment to strike. Buddy hadn’t been lying about the asteroid being a maze. Vespa had wandered for hours through corridors that looped up and down and crossed into each other. Some hallways were so tight that even Vespa had trouble squeezing through them, while others were the size of ballrooms. Vespa had found classrooms and cells and libraries and hydroponics and kitchens and farms, but no matter how deep she journeyed in or out of the compound, she couldn’t find a trace of torture instruments or locked doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearly two in the morning when she found her way back to her room. After hours and hours, she was forced to consider that maybe…. Just maybe…. Pal and Buddy hadn’t been lying to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, Vespa found herself inviting Buddy into her room before Buddy had raised her hand to knock on the door. “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p><span>Buddy was clearly alarmed by her </span>sudden change, but answered anyways. “We want to help you. The whole purpose of this place is to undo the damage the war has brought.”</p><p>
  <span>“Why? That doesn’t make any sense. It’d be cheaper to just kill me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling, this is the second time in two days you’ve tried to convince me that you’re better off dead. Maybe it would do you some good to talk to someone-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s the point</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What do the Solar Governments get out of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy hesitated. “The Solar Governments don't know the full extent of what we do here. They approve the budget for our prison, but my father controls the allotment of those funds. Much of the money that would go towards locking systems, armed guards salaries, and treatment for diseased or injured prisoners is easily redistributed by getting rid of the need for such things. While the solar government allots a minimum of rations to us, we grow most of our own food here, put an emphasis on nonviolent communication and problem solving, and help our guests to find a purpose outside of the war. As father always says, there are only two ways to keep the chickens in the coop: either build a big wall or make them never want to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what, you think you can keep me here by giving me three meals a day and my own shower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, to be perfectly honest, I hope we have more to offer than that. Personally, I hope we can be friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa snarled and stepped into her space. “I’ll get out of here. I’ll escape and go back to the outer rim. I will kill people and their blood will be on your hands as well as mine. If you don’t stop me now, then I will watch your little chicken coop burn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Buddy was fazed by the fact that their faces were inches apart, she didn’t show it. “The next group of guests will be arriving in two months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m giving you a show of good faith. If you want to leave in two months, I doubt anyone would be truly prepared to stop you. Therefore, to protect my home, I have two months to get you to like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa stepped back. “Good luck with that.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very distracting, darling?” Vespa felt butterflies in her stomach and hated herself for it. “I had a reason for coming here, but it </span>completely slipped my mind before now. I apologize.”</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already had breakfast,” Vespa said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful, but that’s not what I’m here for. It’s about your job assignment. Well, it’s more of an apprenticeship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what are you going to do if I refuse?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Well, </span><em><span>I’m</span></em><span> going to go about my other duties, personally. You however, might be rather bored sitting in your room all day. It’s your right to do what you want, but personally, I consider bored</span>om to be a torture in it’s own right.”</p><p>
  <span>Vespa growled. “Fine.” She let Buddy out first. “Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy led them through the tunnels without sparing a glance to where she was going. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a white door with a red cross painted on it. “Here we are,” Buddy said. “The medical bay. Although, I should probably warn you about her before you go in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warn me about wh-”</span>
</p><p><span>The door slid open, revealing an older, black-haired Buddy standing with her arms crossed and a cold stare. “Vespa Ilkay? You’re late. I will not accept tardiness in my medical bay. From now on, you arrive fiv</span>e minutes before your shift at the latest.”</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa,” Buddy said. “Allow me to introduce you to Hygeia’s Chief Medical Officer, Philia Aurinko, my mother.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Philia looked Vespa up and down. “You’re a scrawny little thing, aren’t you? God knows what they’re feeding you in the Outer Rim. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you to be a teenager rather than a grown woman. As it is, your age certainly doesn’t reassure me about your skill as a medic. I sincerely doubt you have any formal medical training, and I’d consider it a genuine miracle if you knew more than the most basic aspects of pulling shrapnel out of bodies and stemming the blood loss. Evidently, I have my work cut out for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa grit her teeth. She’d learned over the years when and where she could talk back. This was not one of those times or places. Buddy spoke tensely. “Mother, she’s still fresh from the war. Perhaps you could keep your assessments to yourself for the time being?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she’s fresh from the war, then I’m sure she’s heard worse. There is a difference between accuracy and cruelty, and I use both only as they’re needed. Now, are we going to spend all day exchanging niceties or are we going to work?” She turned and entered her lab. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy turned to Vespa. “Apologies if my mother came off abrasively. She isn’t exactly the pacifist my father is. Still, out of your two specialties, I thought you might appreciate getting to learn medicine again, this time from a more qualified practitioner who has, if not the patience, then at least the time to teach you properly. If you don’t like it, I can find you work elsewhere of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa shook her head. “I’ll stay here.” Privately, she thought that it would be good to refresh her medical knowledge, if only so she could patch any injuries she sustained during her escape. Whatever Buddy thought- that she and Vespa could be friends, that she could get information from her, that Vespa would just give up without a fight- it would never ever be true. Vespa couldn’t allow it to be true. She was a soldier, and her job wasn’t done until she died or the war ended, and neither were going to happen any time soon. Buddy turned to leave, and Vespa watched her go.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AAAAAAAAHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH HAYAN FOR YOUR AMAZING ART. For anyone interested, their instagram is @/cheruehai </p><p>Besides the art, I also recently guest starred on an episode of Penumbuddies: the penumbra fan podcast! We reviewed Juno Steel and the Midnight Fox, so give it a listen! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rnfg_TKSvWU&amp;t=3s </p><p>AND I GRADUATED TODAY so that's fun! </p><p>Once again, the title is derived from the song For The Departed by Shayfer James.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Beating of a Heart That I Hid Beneath the Floor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Things fell into a routine for Vespa after that. She would wake up, go to breakfast, and talk with the other prisoners, still trying to gather intel wherever she could. Then, Buddy would come and escort her to the Medical Bay, chatting all the while. She had promised to try and befriend Vespa, and she was trying her hardest with stories about growing up and asking about her interests and always, always trying to get her to hang out outside of their daily walks together. Vespa refused each time, but she always felt a little bit disappointed when they arrived and Philia’s sharp tongue replaced Buddy’s full lips. Not that she had thought about them or not thought about them or not not thought about them. She thought about Buddy’s lips a completely normal amount. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her time spent with Philia in the Med Bay was nothing like the time she’d spent at the front lines, but it was just as grueling. There weren’t many patients on Hygeia, and the few that came in were there for routine check-ups. This gave Vespa no chance to show off her practical skills, and instead left her open to Philia’s lectures for hours on end. Vespa marvelled at how one family could talk so much for so long without interruption. The first day, Philia had discovered that Vespa didn’t know all of the bones and muscle groups of the body, so she’d started throwing tongue depressors at her, shouting the names of the bones or muscle areas that she hit. By the second day, Vespa knew all of the bones and muscle groups of the body. Their training proceeded just as quickly from there, as they proceeded to go over each part of the body, and what could go wrong with it. Every afternoon, when she relieved Vespa of duty, she handed her a new medical book and told her to learn twenty five new things by the next day. Still, the vicious part of Vespa that had driven her to become an galactically-renowned assassin thrived at the new challenge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she was disappointed to leave Buddy each morning, she was disappointed to leave Philia each afternoon. After a few hours studying in her room, Buddy would bring her dinner. They would eat together as Buddy rambled about her day or the gossip she’d heard, and Vespa interjected occasionally with snide comments. Time flowed more easily when she was with Buddy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa would wait for Buddy to leave, and then explore late into the night. She was all but convinced now that she wouldn’t find any sinister instruments of torture behind closed doors, but there were other reasons to explore. Strategy was one: She needed to be able to get to the hangar where new ships arrived in less than twenty minutes from anywhere in the entire prison. Curiosity was a second reason: no matter how deep Vespa went into the tunnels, there were always more to explore. Vespa was an assassin who had spent years honing her sense of direction, and yet she had caught herself doubting the way back dozens of times. It felt good to find hiding spots, and to note which routes she would take if the prison was ever raided. It made her feel prepared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a third reason she spent her nights exploring the tunnels. Sleep was not a pleasant experience for Vespa. It wasn’t just that she had seen enough atrocities to keep anyone awake; she had committed them herself. She knew what it sounded like when someone drowned in their own blood. She knew the wail a man makes when he found his husband dead beside him. She knew the dread in the eyes of a maid who realizes at the same time you did that she was a loose end that had to be cleaned up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, avoiding sleep was easy. But tonight, Vespa had miscalculated. She had tucked herself into a hollowed out crack in a hallway deep in the labyrinth to see if she would fit, and then the screaming started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were hands on her face, her shoulders, her wrists. She reached around blindly for a knife and when she couldn’t find one, reached up to claw at the person attacking her. A cry of pain cut above the screaming and she opened her eyes. Buddy’s face and voice came into focus saying “Darling, darling, you’re safe. Vespa, you’re safe now. Wake up. You’re dreaming. I’m not going to hurt you.” Vespa stopped screaming, and then realized stupidly that it had been her screaming all along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bud?” She panted. “Where- What-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When and why. The four W’s. I’m familiar. You were having a nightmare. Can you stand? My room isn’t far and I tend to find that pleasant scenery is incredibly helpful in finding my way back to the waking world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- Your room?” Vespa couldn’t tell what was happening as Buddy put Vespa’s arm around her shoulders and helped her stumble a short ways down the hall to a door that looked to be made out of real, actual wood. On the outer planets, Vespa had seen real wood doors maybe a handful of times in her life. Buddy turned on the lights, and if Vespa had been unsure whether or not she’d been dreaming before now she was completely lost. The room was a large dome, walls and ceiling made of purple crystals, glowing in the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy led her to a bed in the center of the room, sat her down, and smiled. “At some point, one of the previous owners dug into this geode. Worthless, but beautiful. I found this room when I was a child and begged my father to let me use it as my room. I can’t say that being the warden’s daughter doesn’t have its perks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two hallways past the funny-looking rock with a skull carved into it. Don’t you remember? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. It’s fine. Just- just slipped my mind.” She felt stupid for falling asleep, and even stupider for drawing attention to herself afterwards. What sort of an assassin would she be if she alerted the mark just because she had a nightmare?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.” Buddy hesitated. “Vespa- if you don’t mind me asking- if you didn’t know I was down here, what were you doing this deep in the tunnels? Because, well, if it’s the nightmares that are troubling you, there are groups you can talk to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy let out a slow breath. “Alright then. What do you want to do now? Forgive me darling, but I don’t think it would be best for you to keep exploring tonight. If you want, we can go back to your room-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to babysit me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa looked around the room. It certainly had Buddy’s tastes. Aside from the fact that the walls and ceiling were literally made out of crystal, there was a vanity covered in products and an ornamental changing divider with several dresses draped over it, despite the fact that there was no one worth dressing for on the entire asteroid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa stood, ready to leave and pretend that tonight’s interaction never happened when she spotted a familiar looking box wedge under Buddy’s dresser. She blinked. “Why do you have a Rangian Street Poker deck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy shrugged. “You have no idea how hard it is to find hobbies here. The idea of the most difficult game in the galaxy sounded interesting, but I couldn’t understand it, and no one else knew how to play. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she knew she was saying, Vespa blurted. “I can play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “I’m not good at it, but I can play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy’s eyes lit up with hunger. “Teach me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach me. In exchange, I’ll teach you to navigate these tunnels. I’ve been exploring them since before I could walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since before you could walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m told I was a prodigious crawler.” Vespa snorted and Buddy flashed her a wry smile. Vespa didn’t particularly want to give Buddy any more chances to get into her head, but Rangian Street Poker was a game that required the players to tell the truth. If she played well enough, especially against a beginner like Buddy, she could learn the best way to escape without giving up any information that could be used against her. It was a gamble, but one that could get her to safety halfway across the galaxy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” She grabbed the box and started shuffling the decks. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy gave her that grin again: the brilliant one that promised thrills and danger and took Vespa’s breath away without exception. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter 5!</p><p>As always, you can find more wlw works at penumbrawlwweek on tumblr or twitter.</p><p>I'm trying to get this published fast today because I have a room to clean, a final project due in a couple days, a regular assignment due tomorrow that i only found out about today, and all of my college classes to pick out today on a phone call with my first year advisor. </p><p>Being graduated isn't as easy as I'd hoped!!!</p><p>Anyways comment kudos bookmark, or if you saw this from a link i posted somewhere, like and reblog.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Save Yourself, I Am Far Beyond Repair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Does your father have access to Solar plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flurry of cards flew between them. Buddy was brilliant, and more importantly, starved for entertainment, so over the past few weeks, she had picked up the game quickly. They played every other day, and on the off days the two of them explored the tunnels. Still, with a game as complicated as Rangian Street Poker, this was the first real match they had played as opponents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle with new prisoners was coming tomorrow, and this was Vespa’s only real chance to figure out what she could gain before her escape, but so far, Buddy had seemed intent on using her plays to dig up personal information on her. It was uncomfortable for Vespa, but she kept reminding herself that Buddy wasn’t going to get anything valuable out of it. Let her waste her questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reveal.” They both showed their hands. Buddy had won. Vespa scowled. As Buddy mimed tearing up the cards before setting them in a reject pile, Vespa reminded herself for the tenth time in as many minutes that Buddy couldn’t get any useful information out of it. There was no reason for her to be so afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father lived in a hut on Ranga at the edge of a bio-mech swamp. What he couldn’t hunt or gather in the swamps, he bought by doing odd jobs around local towns. He was a miserable man stuck in a miserable life. I haven’t seen him since I enlisted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you go back if you escaped?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy raised an eyebrow. “Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa rolled her eyes. “Does your father have access to Solar plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy pretended to consider. “Play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cards flew between them once again, and once again, Buddy was the victor. Buddy discarded the winning cards as Vespa answered. “No. I’m not going back there till my coffin is shipped back to my next of kin. Does your father have access to Solar plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was your mother, if you had one? I didn’t see her listed in your file when you were sent here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against her better judgement, Vespa asked. “You know, these questions are supposed to be of equal importance, right? Even if you win more rounds, you’re still not gaining information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who says they aren’t? You’re working towards your goal, and I’m working toward mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s your goal? Befriending me? Protecting your base’s reputation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already asked your question this round, darling. Now are we going to play or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They flipped cards between them. One of the things that Vespa had discovered about Buddy was that her mouth never stopped moving. Most of the time that meant it was busy talking, but even when they sat in silence, every smile she gave was a little bit different from the one she’d been giving before. Each was sincere, but there was a hidden language to them that Vespa hadn’t yet learned to decipher. The fiery grins of blinding teeth were no more valuable in their rarity than the fond, gentle upward quirks at the corner of her mouth or the teasing smiles that showed off the fullness of her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both showed their hands. Vespa had won. Buddy tilted her head in concession and answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father is aware of some of the larger Solar plans, but no specific attacks or maneuvers. The closest we get to knowing dates or times is when we are told to prepare for a prisoner transfer several days before an attack if they expect to capture someone of importance. Now, same question as before: who is your mother, if you have one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa hesitated. Was Buddy lying? There was no point in playing if she couldn’t get any information out of it. No, Vespa had made it clear that the punishment for lying was death. Buddy would know that Vespa kept her word when it came to death. So what information did she want to learn from Buddy, now that government intelligence was off the table? “Why are you trying so hard to make me be your friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy’s brow furrowed at that, but she nodded. “Play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cards flew back and forth across the table. Vespa won. Buddy smiled softly, and there was a touch of something wistful underneath it. “Well, I suppose it’s because I’ve never had a friend before. There were never children sent here, no matter what slander about us is spread on other worlds. I was a rather lonely and fanciful child growing up, which, I suppose, explains quite a few of my eccentricities. If I am campaigning to keep you, Vespa, it’s only because I cannot bear the thought of losing the only person like me that I’ve ever met.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa wanted to tell Buddy that she was wrong. She wanted to grab her and shake her and tell her that they weren’t alike at all. Buddy was strong and bold and kind and</span>
  <em>
    <span> good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was the sun, nurturing and burning in equal measure. Vespa was the cold void of space, dark and deadly and empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy must have read some of her thoughts on her face, because her smile flickered and faded. Vespa hated to see it go. She didn’t understand Buddy’s smiles yet, but she wanted to. She wanted to freeze each one in time and study it from every angle until she understood what it meant. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to Buddy’s smiles. They lit up her face when she was challenged, and brushed across her lips when she wasn’t. She gave them out so often for free, but her eyes told you that the smiles were hidden gifts to be cherished. A small voice inside her wanted to ask Buddy about them, but she quashed it and asked instead “Are there any variables to my escape that I haven’t accounted for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy had stopped smiling now, but her pursed lips weren’t any less mesmerizing. “Could we have been friends, Vespa? If the war wasn’t in the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pass.” Vespa said the word before she even registered that she’d said it. Then she cursed herself. She needed to know if she could escape, but in the moment, the question Buddy had asked her seemed too big. Maybe Buddy understood this game better than she thought. Rangian Street Poker was not just a game of questions and secrets: it was a game of finding the questions that the other player wouldn’t answer. It was about finding out what was important. That was how the game was won. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy leaned forwards, eyes burning. “What am I doing wrong that you’re so desperate to leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa swallowed, and asked almost in a whisper, “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy clenched her fists in the fabric of her gown so hard that the knuckles turned white. “Pass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched each other warily. They had reached the heart of the game now, and they both knew it. Vespa closed her eyes. “Are there any variables to my escape that I haven’t accounted for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa Ilkay.” Buddy didn’t look like she was breathing. “Why do you keep looking at my lips?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa was running out of Buddy’s room, down the halls that had been dimmed for the sleep-cycle, certain she was dying. Had she been poisoned? There were dozens of concoctions that would give her symptoms like this. Fuzzy vision, difficulty breathing, shivers wracking her body- she was halfway to the medical bay, leaning against a wall for support, before she realized that her face was wet. When she pulled her hand away from her cheek, she half-expected blood, but her hand came away clean. Tears. She was crying. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stumbling through the dark, Vespa barely made it to her room before her legs gave out. She curled in on herself, holding her hands behind her neck to ward off any blows while she was down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa Ilkay cried. She cried hot tears of rage for the war and the people on either side. She cried, mourning the old versions of herself that she’d had to kill to survive: the kindness and the hope. She cried because she was afraid. It was the fear that had kept her alive, she reminded herself. It was the fear that had made her a good assassin. She had never run from the fear before. But this wasn’t like the fear she’d known before. The fear she used to know was a wind beneath her wings, spurring her onto action, and sharpening her senses. This fear was a lead blanket, muffling the world and weighing her down. What had this place done to her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated Buddy Aurinko. She’d sworn to herself that they would never break her, but Buddy Aurinko had been the one to make her wish she was capable of breaking. She didn’t know what she stood for, but Buddy had been the one to make her realize that she didn’t know how to stop standing. She was an automaton with its joints rusted in place, standing sentry in front of an empty heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did Buddy do it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did Buddy smile? And what part of Vespa was so deeply broken that she couldn’t do the same? How was Buddy so soft and kind and warm in a war that left only cold bodies in its wake?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa cried because she was going to have to leave tomorrow. Vespa cried because she didn’t know why she was leaving. Vespa cried because she had never had anything to lose before. Vespa cried because her misery was the only thing she was certain of anymore.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So anyways what a depressing chapter am I right?</p><p>The worst part about healing is that after you stop living in survival mode, you realize you also have to figure out how to be a person from scratch. So, you know, Vespa's got some stuff to work through. </p><p>As per usual, I got the title from For The Departed by Shayfer James. Listen. It's good. It will make you even sadder while you read this. </p><p>Check out other wlw content on tumblr and twitter at penumbrawlwweek and toss around some likes, reblogs, comments, bookmarks, and kudos if anything catches your eye!</p><p>And in my specific case also leave some of those likes, reblogs, comments, bookmarks, and kudos for me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. So Dry Your Eyes and Count to Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Vespa woke the next morning, she was cold, inside and out. She rose, stiffly, and took a shower. She turned the water up until it burned, melting the tension and history from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was Vespa Ilkay. She was an assassin, and she had a job to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She retrieved her tattered, Outer military clothes from under the bed, where she’d used them to cover the air vent. They were stiff and wrinkled, with a new, unfortunate smell. It would be more practical to wear the uniform the Hygeia had provided her, but she refused to take any part of this place with her. She broke her plant’s pot and slipped the sharpest looking shard up her sleeve. It would do as a weapon for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warden’s daughter didn’t bring her breakfast that morning. Part of her was relieved. She slipped out of the room and made her way stealthily down the hall. It was later than she’d expected and everyone had already gone to their classes or job assignments. The hallways were clear and Vespa made it to Pallas’s office undetected. He wasn’t inside, but there was no telling when he’d return; she would have to work fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved to his computer, which didn’t require a password. It was the easiest job she’d ever done. Vespa would be in and out before anyone ever knew she was there. She hesitated for only a moment before opening his files. They were all meticulously ordered by subject. Prison blueprints, inventory, timetables. None of it was what she was looking for. Vespa moved to his correspondence. Work orders, weekly reports, messages to his wife. She growled in frustration. There had to be something important here. Something other than the prison itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and within the space of a millisecond, Vespa disappeared into the shadows. Pallas came in, but paused when he saw his open computer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he said. “You wanted information before you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stayed perfectly silent to avoid giving away her position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, have we? You’ve been busy with my wife and daughter, and I’ve been busy keeping the solar government from looking too closely at how we run things here.” He sat down in front of his computer and picked up the picture of his family that sat on his desk. “They want to know how I’m running my prison effectively so they can emulate it elsewhere in the galaxy. Of course, I don’t think they’ll like the answer they find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, Vespa, the problem with a peaceable prison such as this one is that if every soldier knew that by surrendering themselves they could have access to three meals a day, clean clothes, a safe place to live, and opportunities for education and employment, then there would be a lot fewer soldiers on the battlefield. And while it might seem like an excellent strategy to deplete the Outer planets' forces, it would only be a short matter of time before they tried the same trick to deplete ours. Both sides would lose hundreds of men. My prison represents a threat to those behind the reins of this war, and so, I must lie to my government in order to help the people who need it most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trying to lure Vespa into talking, but she wouldn’t take the bait. She would wait until he left, and kill him if he made any move to call for reinforcements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many people don’t understand my relationship with my wife. They see her anger, they see that she fights, and they assume we are too different to find connection. They don’t see that underneath my words, I am just as sharp, and not half as kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa tightened her grip on the pottery shard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My daughter Buddy thinks I am a pacifist, but there are no pacifists in times of war. Non-action when faced with suffering is its own violence, and the choices that might save hundreds are also the choices that might damn a few. How can I be a pacifist if I stand by and let a galaxy rip itself to shreds? How can I be a pacifist if by trying to save that galaxy, I put my family in the line of fire? Pacifism as an ideal relies on trusting that others won’t hurt you if you show them kindness. I’ve done my best to live by those ideals where I can, and to teach them to my daughter. What’s more important, Vespa? An ideal or a reality? Should I stand by what I want the galaxy to be? Should I let you make your choice no matter what consequence it will have for me? For the prison? Or should I do what I can to stop you to protect hundreds? What is an ideal if it still leads to pain and destruction? What is the point of survival if you sacrifice good things in its name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to his feet with a groan, and Vespa was suddenly reminded that Pallas Aurinko was old. Old by the standards of the war, at least. Older than she’d ever live to see. He stretched and walked to the door. Before leaving, he paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every day, I feel the weight of my choices. I think I would make these same decisions again, but I would never see them made easily. I choose to stand by my ideals, even if it means my death. I am comforted by the fact that I alone will pay for my actions. After all, I may have taught my daughter to use her words, but remember that my wife taught her to fight for survival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he left, leaving Vespa alone in the room. She stayed in the shadows for another minute before making for the door. As she fled down the halls to the Medical bay, she felt his words twist their way into her chest. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well somehow the pandemic has kept my schedule as crammed as ever. So I am very very very very grateful that I wrote this whole fic in advance and that posting it doesn't take too long. </p><p>Anyways raise your hand if you're banging your head against the wall trying to figure out what's up with the latest episode!</p><p>Read other wlw stuff at penumbrawlwweek on tumblr or twitter and be sure to comment, kudos, like, reblog, and/or bookmark.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. They'll Have Me on the Pyre By Then</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vespa preferred to avoid fights where she could. As an assassin, it had always been more practical to make sure that no one saw her coming in the first place. It was easier to end fights with a few well-placed stabs than a drawn out fight. She worked with knives, poisons, and occasionally blasters (though she found the latter distasteful). Needless to say, she was at a significant disadvantage when up against a hand-to-hand fighter like Philia or her daughter. Her knives had been confisticated when she’d first been arrested, so now the closest thing that she was going to get to a usable weapon were the scalpels in the medical bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to the bay opened, and Vespa slipped in, as quiet as the dead. Philia was sitting at a desk in the corner, facing the wall. She didn’t look up from the paperwork she was filling out as Vespa entered and crept towards a tray of scalpels that were lying unused near the operating table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa reached to grab one as Philia spoke. “Take the third one: it’s not as sharp but you’ll be able to grip it better.” She froze and Philia set down her pen with a scoff. “By all means, don’t let me stop you. If you’re going to kill today, at least commit to it. I’ll never understand how you became such a feared assassin. At least my husband is firm in his principles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa tucked the blade into her sleeve and Philia turned around, piercing her with her gaze. Vespa was once again reminded of how little she was like Pallas. He had been willing to let Vespa hide, as long as she could hear him. Philia offered no such quarter. “It’s a shame, too. You would have made a passable doctor. Passable enough that you would be wasted here. You’re not stupid, Vespa, so stop acting that way and figure things out. You’re running out of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Vespa hissed against her will. Philia didn’t look impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I tried to stop you here, you would kill me, wouldn’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stutter. Yes or no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa clenched her jaw. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia nodded approvingly. “Good. Always do what’s necessary for your own survival. Hesitation will kill you. Luckily for both of us, however, my daughter has asked me not to stop you from leaving. I still don’t know why, but I trust she has a practical reason. Or, at the very least, a plan to ensure her survival.” She turned back to her books. “Of course, if you plan to survive, then I’m sure you’ve thought ahead. What will you do, when you return to the Outer government’s service?” Vespa didn’t answer. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. When you get to your boss’s doorstep, and say ‘Surprise, I escaped an inescapable prison and it turns out that the whole thing’s a joke,’ what are you going to do next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to do my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For however long they tell me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think you’re going to do this forever, don’t you? And sure, maybe you’re right. Maybe you’ll be killed on the job within a couple years. Maybe you’ll pass away of old age in your sleep after working for the Outer Governments for 70 years. But what if you don’t? You were taught to prepare for every scenario, so start acting like it. What happens if you get back and they think you’re a spy for the Solar government now? What happens if the war ends in a couple years? In a decade? In five? Who’s going to give you orders then? How are you going to survive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa didn’t know how to explain that not asking questions </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> survival for her. All she could do was focus on the task in front of her and keep her head down. She was terrified of what she would find if she looked up. Every time her mind got too close to questions of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> or</span>
  <em>
    <span> what if</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she reeled away from them, twisting her thoughts in on themselves into a tight, safe little ball. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I tried to stop you, you would kill me, and yet you don’t value your own survival enough to examine your loyalties. You’re not like my husband, standing by his chosen cause. You’re running from the idea of championing anything, so scared of the idea of loss that you cannot have anything of value. No relationships, no ideology, no sense of self. You are a coward, Vespa Ilkay. No wonder you don’t fight to live. How can you fight for your survival when there is nothing to fight for? At least the dead were something once. As far as I can tell, the only thing you’ve ever fought to keep was your name. You’ve lived for two decades, and for what? Because there was nothing that killed you by chance? Because in your brain lies some deep, biological need to keep from rotting under the earth? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you, Vespa? Find it, and hold onto it tight. If your purpose is to kill, to win a war, then so be it. Strive to do your work and fight to win. But don’t go crawling home to some else’s feet if you don’t share their purpose. I know what I am doing in this Medical Bay. My husband knows what he’s doing as warden. My daughter knows what she’s doing with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia turned back to her writing. “There are a hundred billion scared little girls in this galaxy. You’re not special. You’re not important. It’s only by chance that you’re useful to certain people. All of that is irreproachable fact. <strong>I will never forgive you for defining yourself by those things.</strong> How dare you let yourself settle. How dare you avoid the thoughts you’re afraid of. How dare you trap yourself in a cage that you built around yourself. Get out of my office or take a stand for something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa fled.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When writing for Philia, I usually just try to give her the rawest possible lines. </p><p>Check out more wlw content on tumblr or twitter at penumbrawlwweek</p><p>I have work for the next six days in a row and i'm dying. </p><p>Comment, kudos, like, reblog, and/or bookmark.</p><p>But mostly comment.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Then My Contrived Goodbyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Chapter 9 </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vespa hid in the eaves of the hangar, waiting for the ship to dock. She stayed silent and unmoving for hours. The Aurinkos’ words raged like a river, trying to cut a new path into her mind. She hated that she couldn’t hide from them like she could hide from the Aurinkos themselves. It was hell, having nothing to distract herself from the barrage of thoughts. Every line of thought she tried to follow to distract herself led her back to the same questions Philia and Pal had asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa nearly wept with relief when the ship finally showed up. She was surprised by how small, old, and dirty it was. Maybe it always had been, and Vespa had just gotten too used to the luxury of Hygeia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pal came out alone to greet the new prisoners and escort them into the base. The guards from the ship turned to leave, and Vespa materialized to knock them unconscious before they could make a sound. She should have killed them. She didn’t. Why didn’t she? Her mind danced around the question. She stepped towards the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped. The warden’s daughter spoke behind her, and no matter how much Vespa wanted to move, her body betrayed her. She was pinned in place like a butterfly on display, small and delicate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s better than you at hand-to-hand combat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a helpful little voice in her head supplied. A fight, Vespa reminded herself. This is a fight and this woman is an enemy preventing my escape. She turned to face the warden’s daughter, and immediately realized that she’d made a mistake, because it wasn’t the warden’s daughter she was fighting; it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Buddy Aurinko.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And god, was Buddy beautiful. Her hair was loose, just like the first time they met. She was dressed more simply than Vespa had ever seen her, in a frayed university sweater that must have been her mother’s and a pair of worn jeans that she wore when exploring the deeper, dirtier parts of the tunnels. She didn’t have makeup on, or any of the face creams that she wore at night. Vespa realized that it might have been the first time she’d ever seen Buddy barefaced. Her eyes were red from crying. For a second, she wondered if it was a tactic to throw her off, but even at her most practical, she couldn’t have believed that. Buddy had never been anything but herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa-” Buddy started again, and she looked as helpless as Vespa felt. “We never finished our game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa choked out the words. “We got what we agreed out of it. I taught you the rules. That’s all I promised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to stop me?” They stared at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy looked away first. “No. No, how could I?” She laughed and it sounded wet. “I should stop you, shouldn’t I? It’s what my mother taught me to do. If I don’t everything here will be destroyed.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks in earnest now. “It’s the only logical solution, really. And yet, I can’t seem to bring myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa stepped towards her on instinct, but Buddy stepped back. The gesture cut Vespa to her core. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Desperately, she bargained “You could beat me, if we fought like this. You could beat me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy laughed again. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? If only there was nothing I could do to stop you. If only you could defeat me without a second thought, I wouldn’t couldn’t blame myself when you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell them,” Vespa pleaded. “No one has to know about Hygeia. I’ll say it was the most secure prison in the galaxy. Bud-” Buddy’s eyes were shining with tears and Vespa wanted to fall to her knees. She wanted to beg forgiveness for what she was about to do, but she knew that there could be none. More than leaving home, more than the people she had killed, Vespa knew that this is what would damn her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, darling,” and oh, if that nickname didn’t do things to Vespa, “You never answered my question during our game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never played the round.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A secret for a secret then. I’ll answer anything you want of me, just please. Please, I have to know. Vespa-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the pregnant pause where Buddy gathered the strength to ask her question, Vespa’s heart cracked. Maybe it was the sound of Buddy’s pleas. Maybe it was the mention of their game. Maybe it was just time and persistence finally overrunning the battlements of her heart that had been ruled by fear for so long. But in that moment, Vespa realized that she wasn’t leaving. It was a terrifying realization, immediately overrun with a hundred other terrifying realizations that had lurked in the back of her head for days and months and years. She wanted to be a doctor. She liked Pal. She liked Philia. She liked having her own shower. She didn’t want to be a soldier. She didn’t want to kill people when she didn’t have the choice. She hated watching what she said so she didn’t get in trouble. She wanted to watch Buddy, and never stop watching her. The sheer force of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> took her breath away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy barely breathed as she asked. “Do you love me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa was kissing her before she finished the question. Buddy’s arms were around her and her flaming hair tickled the sides of Vespa’s face and just like in everything else she did, Buddy’s mouth never stopped </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It was relief and hunger and fear and joy and something that was stronger than any of those things that screamed that Buddy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Buddy’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a sense of belonging that didn’t come with the feeling of being owned by someone else. Vespa had never felt free or safe and to feel them both at the same time was dizzying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their faces were wet as they broke apart, and Vespa didn’t know where her tears ended and Buddy’s began. “Yeah, Bud, yeah. God, yeah. I love you. I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy raised a hand to Vespa’s cheek and Vespa thought she might start crying again from the lightness of her touch. “Vespa, oh Vespa. I love you too. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to tell you sooner. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I could bear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not leaving you. I’m right here, Bud. I’m not leaving. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” They clung to each other, Vespa’s head tucked into Buddy’s neck, with one hand on her back and the other tangled in her hair. Vespa stiffened. “The guards. I knocked them out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they get a good look at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa scoffed. “Of course not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then I’m sure we’ll find something to tell them. A freak lighting strike, perhaps. An unfortunate gas leak. A very aggressive strain of sudden onset narcolepsy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Narcolepsy is a chronic condition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad to see you haven’t been slacking during your medical studies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if your mother would let me. I once mixed up the tarsals and carpals and she made me run laps around the station.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting, when she was teaching me hand-to-hand, the punishment was always pull-ups.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she’s just playing to our strengths. You’re strong and I’m fast. If she was really evil, she’d switch it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush darling, don’t say things like that. You’ll give her ideas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa realized that they’d started swaying in place, as if dancing to some unheard music. “What do we do now?” She asked in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you like, darling.” Buddy’s voice, as strong and rich as honey, washed over her, soothing the fear that always cried omens from the back of her mind. “I must admit: personally, I’d certainly like to kiss you again, but it’s entirely up to what you’re comfortable with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa reached up to kiss Buddy again. It was slower this time, and more assured. Buddy sighed against her. Vespa regretfully broke the kiss and leaned back. “I know I’m ruining the moment-” She glanced hesitantly at Buddy. “If this is a moment-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I- can we get something to eat? I haven’t eaten since dinner yesterday.” Her stomach rumbled to illustrate her point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy blinked. “Of course darling. Goodness, no wonder you’re shaking. And here I thought you were cold. Would you like me to let go of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- I mean, we have to walk, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” They disentangled themselves, but Buddy stayed pressed against Vespa’s side as they made their way to the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy?” Vespa asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Dearest one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring what the new nickname did to kick up butterflies in her stomach, Vespa asked. “Did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, that you loved me? No, I didn’t know for sure until you told me. Before that, I couldn’t trust that my own hopes weren’t clouding my judgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- I mean, did you know that I wouldn’t leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think there was a chance you would stay, even if you did love me as much as I loved you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I had to try, didn’t I? And disregarding that, I had to say goodbye at the very least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa stopped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- and there’s so much I still don’t- I don’t know if-” She tried again. “Bud, I think I just committed treason against the government I’ve served for seven years. For you. And all I can think about is that I should have done it the moment I met you. I’m sorry I wasted so much time, but I’m not going to leave you. Not now. Not ever. They’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming away from you if they want me to leave. I don’t know anything and god, Bud, I’m so, so scared. But I trust you. I love you. I want to figure out what we are together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy wrapped her arms around Vespa. “Of course, darling. Together. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the safety of Buddy’s arms, Vespa couldn’t help but believe her.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gee, this sure does seem like a convenient place for an ending, doesn't it? Sadly, we don't always get what we want.</p><p>I am a terrible person who likes to inflict pain on others and so you have three more chapters to break your heart.</p><p>There's more wlw content hot of the presses for you at penumbrawlwweek on tumblr and twitter, or you can see the rest of our collection on A03.</p><p>Comment!!!!!</p><p>and also like, reblog, kudos, or bookmark. You know, all that good stuff.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Just a Moment Dear, I Hear Someone at the Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A year passed in the blink of an eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from Philia warning Buddy not to hurt Vespa, Buddy’s parents had accepted the news of their relationship without argument. Vespa’s studies with Philia continued the same as before, although now that Philia knew Vespa wasn’t going to leave, she pushed her twice as hard to learn what she could. Every day they went through a week’s worth of material from Philia’s old medical school textbook. Even for someone as smart as Vespa, it was grueling work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa and Buddy kept up their nightly meetups. They still explored the tunnels or played Rangian Street Poker, mostly at Buddy’s insistence. She still wanted to play, and found that it was an interesting “get to know you” activity for someone like Vespa who had very little experience talking about herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few months had been rough. Neither of them had ever been in a relationship before, and miscommunications were abundant. Vespa had difficulty showing any kindness casually, and Buddy was a little too quick to latch onto Vespa’s issues as problems that she could fix. They’d ended up crying in Pal’s office more than a dozen times as he helped to talk them through their feelings. Part of Vespa suspected that the only reason they’d stuck together through it was because there was nothing left for them but each other. And so, they talked and argued and went off to sulk and came back together to hash it out again and again until they’d figured out what they needed to change. It still took effort for Vespa to tell Buddy that she was beautiful or to do things for her without being asked. Buddy was still working on letting Vespa come to her with problems instead of suggesting ways to fix her out of the blue. The world moved around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, all good things had to come to an end. Vespa knew it, even if Buddy was confident that things could stay as they were forever. As much as Vespa loved Buddy’s optimism, she could never fully buy into it enough to stop looking over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Vespa who first noticed that something was wrong. They had stayed up late talking in Vespa’s room, and as Buddy fell asleep, Vespa stayed up to watch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she smelled the gas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a whiff, but it was enough to bring dozens of memories rushing back. Her mind was bombarded with images of the trenches as she yanked her shirt off and rushed to soak it in the sink. She thought of the clouds of burning fumes that drifted across the scorched battlefields of desolated worlds, killing any company that got too close. As Vespa came in and draped the soaking shirt over the vent, Buddy roused herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa darling, what-” She blinked as she realized Vespa was shirtless and reached for the hem of her own top. “Are we-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy, there’s something in the air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Buddy said in a voice that Vespa would have loved at any other time, as she raised her arms to pull the shirt off over her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa grabbed her arms and forced them down. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gas</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re pumping it through the vents. We’re being invaded.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got her attention. “Invaded: by who? How do you know?” Vespa went to the dresser and pulled on a new shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, alright? But someone wants us to choke to death, and personally I’m not willing to sit around and let that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa tried to ride the waves of panic that bubbled in her chest, but it was hard when all she could imagine was Buddy choking to death while Vespa watched helplessly. In her mind’s eye, she pictured Buddy lying completely still, eyes staring at nothing. She shut her eyes tight and tried to quash her nausea. “They gassed us. Neat, clean. The ventilation system would make it so gas was being pumped into every individual room. It’s how I would have done it. These guys are professionals. But if they’re as good as I am, then they're not going to leave anything to chance, which means they’d have to check-” Her eyes widened, and for the second time during her stay at Hygeia, she smashed her potted plant on the ground. She grabbed the biggest shard and hissed “Play dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy opened her mouth to ask something, but was interrupted by the turn of the doorknob. She dropped into bed in a dead faint. Or at least, a perfect facsimile. Vespa stepped behind the door as it opened, not daring to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Room 2284. One hostile.” The voice was deep and muffled. They must be wearing a mask to filter the gas. “Neutralizing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Vespa couldn’t see her enemy, she knew the sound of a weapon charging when she heard it. Half a millisecond before she could lunge to disarm him, a second, higher voice said sharply. “Hold your fire. She’s a noncombatant;, it says so right here. Civilian designation: Buddy Aurinko. Agent Burgess wants to talk to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s she doing here? Is she even still alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She better be, or else you’re going to have to answer to Burgess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure with the deep voice sighed and moved inside to check Buddy’s pulse. He wasn’t wearing any emblem, but Vespa recognized a Dark Matters agent when she saw one. The second agent was still standing in the doorway, but Vespa could see the barrel of their blaster poking into Vespa’s line of sight. She swung around the door, pushing the barrel of the second agent’s blaster away with one hand and using the other to jab the shard of pottery into their throat. The first agent whirled to take fire as Vespa lowered the body softly to the ground, but got a punch to the kidneys from Buddy for his troubles. Vespa shot him with the second agent’s blaster and got to work stripping both of the corpses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re… they’re dead. You- we </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>them.” Vespa looked up to see Buddy, staring in horror at the blood running along the floor. It occurred to her that this was probably the first time Buddy had seen death like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Break down later,” was all she could offer in condolences. “We need to move. Dark Matters likes to take out their enemies before they know what’s happening. Once they realize that their agents are down, they won’t waste any time. They know that they can’t let us get our bearings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Of- of course. You’re absolutely correct.” She closed her eyes and visibly pulled herself together. “We need to find my parents. They said that civilians were spared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess that means I’m not the only prisoner they didn’t want to risk leaving alive. Shit, Bud: they’re cleaning house. They’re gonna wipe Hygeia off the map.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy grit her teeth. “We need to stop them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop them? Buddy, this is Dark Matters. I’ve only seen a few agents in my life, and the ones that I saw were the ones that wanted to be seen. If I’d been born on one of the Solar planets, I’d probably be with them right now. The fact that there are enough agents here to radio each other? This isn’t a check-in gone wrong, Bud. This is a planned, organized military operation. Something as big as this stays in the works for a long time. They’ve planned for </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well obviously not. After all, we’re still alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if we want to stay that way, we need to get moving. Here.” She tossed one of the outfits to Buddy. “It’s too big, but it might fool them at a distance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They changed in silence. Vespa snuck a few glances at Buddy, who was clearly lost in thought. Vespa opened her mouth to give more words of halfhearted encouragement that she didn’t believe herself, but Buddy surprised her by speaking first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, darling, here’s the plan. Based on our own experiences, we can assume that Dark Matters agents are traversing the base in teams of two, killing the targets who haven’t already succumbed to the gas and making their way systematically through the halls on pre-assigned routes. It will be more difficult for us to move unspotted, but with the agents spread so thin we can take down individuals easily. To gas the compound, they’d have to have access to the ventilation room, which is far enough from the hangar that we can assume they’ve already secured the entire base.  But of course, none of the agents will be as familiar with the tunnels as we are. They don’t know where to look, or how. We have the home field advantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, since the agents evidently want me and my family alive, they’ll presumably have my parents in a secure location somewhere on Hygeia- A home base where the agents will be grouped together. And practically, it only makes sense to gather in one of three places. The hangar, aka the only point of entry or exit; the ventilation room, where they’d need to guard the gas distribution system and give it time to do its job; or my father’s office, which they would need to search for evidence of wrongdoing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa didn’t have time to be impressed with the speed that Buddy had assembled the information they had. She pulled on one of the gas masks.“Either way, we’ll need to visit the hangar to escape, assuming that there’s no saving the rest of the prisoners. Whether or not we get your parents, that’s where we need to be focused. Problem is, we’re only going to have surprise on our side once. If they notice us in the hangar, then we need to have a plan to nab a ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy put on her own mask and asked “What do you propose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They said they were going to take us to the agent in charge. Dark Matters likes to keep their hierarchy strict, and agents are desperate to climb the ranks. They wouldn’t send their commanding officer to do anything that anyone else could do. If they needed information from your dad’s office, they’d just send an agent to do it for them. Same with the gas. Whoever this Agent Burgess is, they’re going to make sure they have the option to drop everything and run at the first sign of trouble. Plus, the airlock means that the hangar is the only place in the base with a separate ventilation system.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re certain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t be. But it’s our best shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy nodded. “Let’s get started then.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And now we get the depressing, canon-heavy parts of the story. </p><p>And also, just as a reminder, ACAB!</p><p>Even though wlw week is over, you can still find all of the wlw content in our ao3 collection that this work is a part of or at penumbrawlwweek on tumblr or twitter.</p><p>Like, comment, reblog, bookmark, and give kudos!!!!!!!!!</p><p>But mostly comment!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Then My Contrived GoodBye, A Poet's Pantomime, A Drunken Jester's Final Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>As they made their way down the halls, Vespa felt uncomfortable with how easy it was to slip back into old habits. She and Buddy had briefly reasoned out the routes that the Dark Matters agents would have taken so as to better avoid them, but Vespa still insisted on scouting ahead down every hall. It was easy to step into the shadows and welcome the weight of a blaster in her hand. Her every sense was alert and though she was afraid, it was a fear that she welcomed like an old friend. Finally, after so long, she could give it a purpose instead of treating it like a houseguest that had overstayed its welcome. She could direct it towards an enemy and let it shape her into a living weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mindset of her past life came back to her so easily that it was almost jarring to look over her shoulder and see strong, compassionate Buddy at her heels. Buddy, gritting her teeth, who was looking at each room they passed and its burnt, bloody occupants. It forced Vespa to reconcile the blood and bodies of her childhood with the friends and kindnesses of the past year. She forced down nausea at the thought of finding Buddy’s Pal and Philia in such a state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two guards stood in front of the hangar door. Vespa was careful not to let them see her, but took it as confirmation that they were in the right place. Buddy frowned when she heard the news. “You said no one would believe that we were agents at close range. So how do we get inside? If we take them out by force, then they’ll know we’re coming. We’ll be killed before we make it a dozen feet inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. We still don’t have enough information about what they’re doing here. We can’t make a move until we know exactly what’s inside. The ventilation shafts could get us in maybe, but the ones in the hangar run on a different system. I don’t know how to get into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. It’s all hooked up out of a maintenance room a few doors down. Will we fit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll dislocate my shoulders if I have to, but I’ll get inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found their way to the room, located the vent, and removed the grate covering it with a blast of laser fire. Say what you would about Dark Matters, but their dedication to weapon silencers was incredibly useful. The vent wasn’t as small as they’d feared, but while Vespa slid inside with no trouble, Buddy found it to be a good deal tighter around her shoulders and hips. As they crawled forwards, Vespa said a prayer to whatever gods and devils were out there that Buddy was as good at stealth as she was at everything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few agonizing minutes, they came to another grate and heard distant, muffled voices on the other side. Squinting through the slats revealed that they were emerging from behind a cargo container, the very cargo container that Buddy had pinned her to when she’d first arrived. Evidently, no one was paying any attention to it. She whispered the information back to Buddy, and started working on the problem of how to get out. Realizing that firing the blaster in such a small space would be a bad idea, Vespa slowly and carefully bent the metal slats of the grate before painfully reached her hand out, still clutching the pottery shard. In her sweaty palm, it took a few minutes to get the thin shard onto the screw, and a few longer than that to get it loose enough to unscrew the rest of the way with her fingers. She repeated the process thrice more, moved the grate away from the opening, and crawled out. Vespa peeked out from around the edge of the shipping container and sucked in a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Buddy hissed. “What is it?” Vespa stepped back wordlessly to let Buddy look. There were five Dark Matters shuttles crammed into a bay that should have been able to hold three at most. Each shuttle was clearly meant to hold dozen agents or more. While most of those agents must have been in the tunnels, ensuring that there was no chance anyone would survive the annihilation of Hygeia, there were twenty people still in the hangar standing around computer set-ups, scanning things, and directing people via comms. Or at least, sixteen of them were doing that. There were four exceptions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia drew the eye first. She was bloody and bruised. Her hair and eyes flew wildly in all directions and she gnashed her teeth at anyone who came close. She was being held by a mountain of an agent who, despite his size, was having considerable trouble holding on to her. All of her ire was being directed at a third figure: a bureaucratic looking man in his mid-thirties with an amused, condescending smile. Agent Burgess, undoubtedly. There was a confidence to him that Vespa didn’t like the look of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocking his head, he pulled a gun from his holster and aimed it at Philia. She struggled harder, thrashing so that there was no way for him to shoot her without also hitting her guard. He laughed with genuine admiration and swung to point at the fourth figure, Pallas. His face was bloody and scratched, but his expression was civil. Instead of fighting like Philia, he sat on the ground with his hands extended, palms up, in a gesture of peace. His eyes narrowed when the gun was pointed at him, but he didn’t protest. Philia stopped thrashing, but spat on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa slid her hand into Buddy’s, and gave a reassuring squeeze. Buddy’s face shifted too fast to read, but the tight squeeze she gave in return was enough of an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Burgess laughed again, and his voice carried across the hanger. “You know, for a civilian, you’re quite the handful. I can’t imagine why you were never extended an invitation to work with us.” Philia launched into a detailed medical description of what she planned to do to his corpse, but Burgess cut her off. “Ah, touched a nerve, have I? No matter. I hear your husband is far more of a conversationalist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pallas cocked his head. “What would you like to talk about? Forgive me, but we both know what I’ve done, and why. Your organization doesn’t exactly encourage small talk, and you’ve completed your objective to the best of my knowledge. Kill all of the prisoners, then send me and my wife away to a military tribunal so you can decide to kill us in an official capacity- that would be the Solar Government’s influence, I think. If it were up to your organization, I would be treated no different from my guests. The only reason you could want to talk to me is to frighten or dissuade me from fighting back, but I can assure you that both endeavors are pointless. I came to peace with this eventuality a long time ago, and I don’t plan to resist in any way that could endanger others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Burgess smiled down at him. “How very admirable of you. Foolish, of course, but admirable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’ve been told.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this isn’t about frightening you. Well, no more than necessary. It’s about your daughter and the little assassin she’s wrapped around her finger.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pallas’s posture grew tighter, even from a distance. “What do you plan to do with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that’s classified.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pallas spoke slowly and clearly. Vespa realized that she’d never heard him angry before.  “Do you really expect us to hand over our children to be slaughtered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Burgess raised an eyebrow. “Our children? Plural? Interesting. You know, I believe we may have underestimated your attachment to the little killer. No matter. I’m sure someone in the intelligence department will be demoted over that unfortunate oversight.” He looked around the hangar appreciatively and holstered his gun. “You know, you really are fond of taking in strays here. I can relate, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I was a child, I managed to get a hold of a real baby Martian Rabbit. My father was a lawman as well, and he’d confisticated a shipment of exotic animals on its way to Jupiter. They’d all been turned over to animal control or, in the case of the rabbits, put down to avoid violent incidents. I’d separated one from its mother beforehand, however, and kept it hidden in the garage for weeks, feeding it table scraps, teaching it tricks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually, I got brave enough in my little secret to show it off to my friends. I was proud to show them the tricks I’d taught, but when surrounded by my friends, it froze up. We shouted at it, threw sticks and rocks, but it only sat there, completely embarrassing me. Finally, one of the boys got so frustrated by the useless lump of fur and slime that he tried to pick it up. Of course, as wild animals are prone to do, it lashed out. He got a rather nasty slice across the face. Despite my pleading, he ran straight to my father, who treated the injury, sent the boys home, and told me to get his gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At that age, I thought killing the rabbit was the cruelest thing he could have done to me. I thought I'd never find anything that interesting ever again. But in time I came to see that he was right. Some things are violent by nature, and no matter how many tricks you teach them, no matter how prettily you teach them to dance, they’ll always go back to what they were. As much as you and your beautiful daughter have taken a liking to some poisonous swamp-raised gutter-rat, you must have known that even the shelters put down the creatures that are too dangerous or damaged to risk letting out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pallas spoke after a long moment. “I understand that you are in the unenviable position of convincing me to kill my family, and I sympathize, but you’ll have to do better than that. You seem to be under the impression that love is a choice based on what others can give you. I disagree. I have only ever believed that love is a gift, freely given, regardless of the other person’s intentions towards you. Vespa Ilkay, because you have yet to give her the courtesy of addressing her by name, is a dangerous person. She has killed before, and it is with sorrow in my heart that I expect she’ll have to kill a great deal more before today is done. She has been damaged by this terrible war, but I have seen myself that she isn’t broken. I love her as my own daughter because she deserves to be loved, because I am a loving man, and because I had no other choice but to love her from the first time I saw that she needed help. I don’t know where she and my daughter are, but I trust that they will become something greater than you, and greater than your organization.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burgess laughed. “Oh my, was that a threat? Not very nonviolent of you, I must say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Men like you are often threatened by facts, regardless of whether or not there was malice in the statement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. I’m sure. You don’t know where they are then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No. If they’ve outwitted your agents, it’s through their own intelligence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intelligent is hardly the term I’d use for killing a Dark Matters agent. We’re not exactly known to be forgiving, and for good reason. We’ve been at war for centuries. Mercy doesn’t win battles. Do you want to know a secret, Aurinko?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That depends on the cost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smart answer. It’s a shame to lose a man like you. To have hidden a place like Hygeia away for so long is an incredible feat. I can respect you as an opponent even if I disagree with you. That’s why I’m telling you this secret for free. My father is in this prison, somewhere. Or, was, at least. He’s almost certainly been killed by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being tested. It’s a personal sort of test. Not exactly the sort that you can study for. The Mental-Emotional Fortitude Examination. I’m not even supposed to know my results are being measured, but, well, I have some friends among the higher-ups. Today is meant to see whether I can operate effectively under extreme adverse conditions with the reintroduction of past trauma. In my case, that means working with only five dozen agents to kill thousands without leaving a trace, including my own father. I think I’ve done rather well so far, wouldn’t you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pallas was clearly struggling to keep up with the new information he was being introduced to. “Without a trace? I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fairly simple. After our agents are done ensuring that there are no survivors and your daughter is apprehended, Hygeia will be destroyed. Tragically wiped off the map by... an explosive gas leak, let's say. Or solar flares and failing radiation shields. A collision with another asteroid. We’ll come up with something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? You would kill your own father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have killed, by now, assuming your daughter and her murderous lover haven’t caused any more disruptions among my agents. You already know why your prison can’t be allowed to exist, so I suppose you’re asking why I, personally, am going through this exercise. That’s another little secret I’m not supposed to share, but since you asked; I’m in line for a promotion. Not a small one, either. If this mission goes smoothly, I’ll be appointed as Dark Matters Sub-Director. Imagine: me, the second highest agent in all of Dark Matters.” He laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of this</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>promotion</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The rage in Pallas’s voice was palpable in the air, but Burgess just cocked his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a war, Warden. Men have done all of this for less than nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, your assessment of my mission earlier was impressively accurate. However, you made one error.” He reached for his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It suddenly clicked for Vespa what was happening. She grabbed Buddy’s face and looked her in the eyes. “Bud, listen. We’re gonna have to run for a ship. Things are going to get crazy real fast and I need you to run. Don’t look back, just grab your dad and go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa, what-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled out her gun, aiming for Burgess’s chest. She wasn’t a great shot, but she didn’t have a choice. “I love you, Bud. Whatever happens, I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was very interested to talk to you,” the agent continued, oblivious to his audience. “But I’m the only one. There is no war tribunal to send you to. The Solar Government was never informed about Hygeia, and they never will be.” Burgess aimed his gun at Pallas’s head and Buddy’s eyes widened as she realized everything that was about to happen, a second before anyone could pull the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burgess’s leg was ripped off by a blast from Vespa’s gun and the tension burst, sending everything into motion. Burgess had been thrown several yards away and was miraculously still conscious despite the pain, swearing orders at everyone around him. Philia had taken the surprise in stride, and within seconds had knocked her guard to the ground. She continued to press her advantage by firing quickly and precisely at the surrounding agents. Thankfully, Buddy had listened and made a beeline for her father the moment the shot sounded off. The agents around the room reached for their guns. They were fast, but not as fast as one would expect from Dark Matters. Vespa could only assume that these agents had remained behind because they specialized in the technical and logistical side of the job. Vespa shot at a couple that were the closest before high-tailing it towards the ships. She found herself running alongside Philia, both of them intermittently stopping to find cover and fire at their pursuers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get Buddy and Pal and get out,” Philia shouted. “I can hold them off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t steal my plan,” Vespa shouted back. “If anyone’s leaving, with them, it’s you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I teach you about prioritizing your own survival over everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some example you’re setting!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pal had an arm around Buddy, letting her support his weight as they moved forwards. There was a dark stain spreading down his pant leg from the knee and Vespa realized that he might not have been sitting because he was creating a show of nonviolence. It didn’t look like he could stand. “It’s just a little bit further, Father dear,” Buddy was saying. “We’ll be out of here soon and then Mother and Vespa can fix your leg. It’s going to be alright.” Vespa almost believed her as Buddy opened the ship door and started making her way up the gangplank. They were going to make it out after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye, Vespa saw one of the agents raise their blaster wildly. They were aiming for her, but their aim was shaky; they wouldn’t hit her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t hit her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t hit </span>
  <b>
    <em>her</em>
  </b>
  <b>.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy let out a cry as the force of the hit pulled Pallas away from her. Buddy was covered in blood, but as Pallas fell from the gangplank, eyes wide and unseeing, Vespa realized that Buddy wasn’t the one who’d been shot. Buddy turned back to go after her father, and Vespa begged whatever gods were left for forgiveness as she doubled her speed and tackled Buddy into the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gone. He’s gone, Bud.” Buddy shouted and thrashed underneath her, reaching up wildly to claw at Vespa’s face and arms. It was all Vespa could do to keep her down. “He’s gone, Buddy, please. Bud, you’re hurting me.” Buddy’s movements stuttered to a halt and Vespa had never seen her so afraid. She flinched when Buddy reached for her again, but now Buddy’s arms were around her, holding them together like one person. Buddy buried her head in Vespa’s shoulder, uncaring about the shots raining just outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia flew inside with the devil at her heels and slammed the button to close the doors. Philia didn’t seem to notice them any more than Buddy noticed her mother as Philia went to the pilots seat and started flipping switches at lightning speed. Through the window, Vespa saw shields flicker to life around them. Vespa felt the ship slowly rise and Philia grabbed the steering wheel, guiding them away from Hygeia, away from Pallas, and into a troubled oblivion. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Second to last chapter! Also the saddest one! So, sorry about that I guess. </p><p>Also if you thought it said there would be 13 chapters before, you were right, i just made a mistake while counting them in my google doc.</p><p>On a personal note, you should know that I had to look up the Day That Wouldn't Die scripts to find out how Agent Burgess talked, and just reading what he said made me so angry that I had to call my discord server and rant for a solid hour about how i hated him more than Ramses and Elias Bouchard put together. </p><p>Even tho wlw week is over, you can find all of our content in this ao3 collection or on tumblr and twitter at penumbrawlwweek. </p><p>Like, reblog, comment, bookmark, and give kudos! Not just to me, but to all the hardworking writers and artists in this fandom!</p><p>And once again, i implore you all to listen to For The Departed by Shayfer James because it really does have All the Vibes of this fic and especially this chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Dry Your Eye and Count to Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Buddy spent the next few hours intermittently crying and blankly staring into space. Vespa held her all the while, stroking her hair and doing her best to offer words of comfort. It tore at Vespa to see Buddy like this, to know that Pal was gone, but she didn’t cry. She had seen too much death for this to break her. Philia stayed in the driver’s seat, wordlessly staring straight ahead. Eventually Buddy fell asleep, and Vespa dozed off beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy was still asleep when Vespa woke up. There was no sign of how long they’d slept, apart from the fact that the blood covering both of them had long since dried. Philia was still awake, sitting exactly as she had when they’d fallen asleep. Vespa untangled herself from Buddy and sat in the empty seat next to her. Neither of them said anything for several moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re injured,” Vespa said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll heal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa reached for a first aid kit that was strapped to the wall. “Any broken bones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fractured fourth and fifth ribs. Not much we can do about it here.” She stayed still as Vespa started disinfecting her scrapes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid. Answer the question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia laughed tiredly. “Glad you remembered some of what I taught you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, insulting my patients?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not taking anyone’s shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa grunted. “Still haven’t answered the question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa disinfected the rest of her wounds in silence before speaking again. “Where are we going to go now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s up to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa chewed her lip. “Dark Matters will be looking for us. We have to leave the Solar Planets, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Outer Governments will be just as interested in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, but they might leave Buddy alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa leaned closer to Philia and after telegraphing her intentions, started stitching up a gash on her shoulder. Philia grimaced but didn’t say anything. “We’re going to be hunted either way, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want Buddy to have to go through that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s strong enough to handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that. She still shouldn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s being stupid. You don’t have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa blinked. “I don’t have a choice? </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t have a choice. Unless...” Philia didn’t answer. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dark Matters is looking for the three of us. It’s safer for us to separate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t think I should leave Buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would either of you have listened if I told you to?” Vespa didn’t answer. “I almost didn’t get on the ship, you know. When I saw Pallas fall- I was willing to turn and fight. I would have killed every single agent on the base. But I didn’t. You two needed to survive more than I needed to die next to my husband. You’re alive, and that has to be enough for me. Maybe I’ll never get a body to bury. Maybe I don’t have a purpose or the man I love by my side, but I’ll survive. It’s all that people like us know how to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa had trouble finding her voice. “You can still mourn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philia choked out a bitter laugh. “I can still mourn. I can leave a bouquet by an empty grave with an old man’s name on it. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can still help people. You’re the best doctor I’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a woman wanted by Dark Matters? Who would I serve? Criminals who can’t explain to a hospital why they’ve been shot? Outer Planetary medical tents? I might as well hand flowers to every fool who walks through my door. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re desperate enough to come to me, then it’s too late for you already. I’m sorry for your loss.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Doctor Hanataba. An angel of death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hanataba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “It was Pallas’s name before we were married. It means bouquet in an old earth language. He always thought it was funny. A marriage of flowers and sun. It was part of the reason I insisted on using the name Aurinko. I was a harsh woman, but not as morbid as all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I’m not so sure. It just reminds me of him. I don’t know if that’s a good thing yet.” Philia’s voice was hoarse. “Right now it just hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa finished the stitches on her shoulder and moved to bandage her smaller scrapes and cuts. “Buddy won’t take it well. She’s already lost her father today. I don’t know if she can lose her mother too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll survive. She has you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She does. That won’t fix things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll arrive on Jupiter in a few hours. Dark Matters cloaking is efficient, but we really should ditch the ship as soon as possible. With any luck, Dark Matters has better things to do than to spend precious war resources chasing down three civilians, but luck hasn’t exactly sided with us today. I’m planning to take us down near the capital. It should be busy enough to lose any pursuers. Do you have a plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. It depends on whether Buddy agrees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy spoke from behind her. “I’m all ears.” Vespa jumped, and turned to her girlfriend, hackles raised. Something about Buddy seemed off, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long were you listening?” Philia asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long enough. I know that you’re leaving.” Vespa realized that Buddy wasn’t moving. Her face was a cold, hard mask. Only her eyes still burned, but there was a cold fire inside of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” Vespa asked cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy smiled tightly. “Hungry, to be perfectly honest. And tired, and too miserable to think.” Vespa opened her mouth to speak but Buddy barrelled onwards. “More than anything, however, I’m angry. In fact, I do believe I've never been so angry in my entire life, and Vespa, darling, if your plan for us doesn’t include kicking the collective asses of every war mongering trillionaire in the galaxy, then I’m not particularly interested.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa blinked. That had been exactly what she planned to suggest, though she’d thought it would take a lot of convincing to drag Buddy out of her misery. She shouldn’t have underestimated her. “If we’re gonna get anywhere without Dark Matters catching us, we need a ship, and we need creds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy quirked an eyebrow. “What do you propose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We steal it. We take every cred from from the people who profit off this war: the weapon manufacturers and the generals and the politicians and every corporation that’s ever charged desperate people to fulfill their basic needs. All of them, Bud. I’m so tired of this fucking war taking everything from everyone and nobody doing anything about it. I’m done. That’s what- It’s what Pallas always talked about: taking a stand for something, even if it was dangerous. Buddy, I don’t know if you want this, but I’m tired of hiding in the shadows and letting other people leash me like a dog. If Dark Matters kills us, I don’t want to die with no one knowing who we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy kissed her, and with their faces pressed together, Vespa couldn’t tell which one of them was crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke apart and Philia turned around and placed a hand on Buddy’s shoulder. “He was so proud of you. I’m so proud of you. We loved- love you so much. I need you to understand that I wouldn’t leave you if I thought there was any other way to protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vespa’s nearly as good a doctor as I am now. I wouldn’t stand for anything less. You don’t need an old lady like me slowing you down.” Buddy hugged her mother, and for the first time, Vespa saw tears well up in Philia’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember,” Buddy said softly. “When I was little and I threw those temper tantrums because I didn’t have a job like everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother gave a watery laugh. “I told you that your job was learning the alphabet but you wouldn’t listen. You were so determined to be all grown up, even back then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually he told me that I could be his courier, and started sending me running all over the base each day to fetch things for him. It took me years to realize that he didn’t actually need any of the things he sent for, sending me running up six floors to switch out a plant that he kept in his office with an identical one, or running to the med-bay to ask you a question when he could have just called your comms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I could have sworn he sent you over when it was the most inconvenient for me, just to get me to take a break from my work. He was such an absurd man.” She smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something impossible about that moment in time. This was quite possibly the last time the Aurinkos would ever see each other, and they all knew it. It wasn’t a happy moment, but somehow, organically, it had arisen bittersweet. Over the next five hours, Buddy and Philia talked. They traded memories of Pallas. They laughed and cried and repeated over and over again that they were a family, that they loved each other, and that they were so proud to have known each other. Buddy tucked herself against Philia’s side like a child and her mother held her. At first, Vespa had stayed out of the conversation, thinking it was best left between the family, but tentatively, she added her own memories to the mix, and then she was crying too. She’d forgotten what it was like to mourn. Vespa couldn’t shake the feeling that all of the most important moments of her life would be bittersweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally touched down on Jupiter, they were thirsty, tired, and hollow chested. Their voices were hoarse and their eyes were red, but they hardly noticed. Philia kissed Buddy on the forehead, stepped out into the city, and with one final look back, was swallowed by the throngs of people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vespa took Buddy’s hand. “You’re sure about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buddy nodded, and wiped her eyes one last time. “Come along, darling. Let’s make a mark on the world.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're finally done! </p><p>I can't tell you all how long I've been waiting to reveal the Hanataba twist. </p><p>While this fic is over, traveller, it isn't the end. Check out more wlw works at penumbrawlwweek on tumblr and twitter or read the rest of the things in this collection.</p><p>And on a personal note, feel free to read more of my works. </p><p>REMEMBER KIDS, ACAB. I hope i got that across well enough in this fic! and in all future fics that I write! (be on the lookout for my penumbra tma au where i explain that the HCPD is a Corruption stronghold.</p><p>Like, reblog, bookmark, comment, and give kudos! </p><p>And also, there should be more art on the way, which i'll probably make a separate chapter for in the future because I drink my loving and respecting artists juice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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